I have watched my daughter nearly starve to death. I have watched her go through pain and suffering and loss that I can't understand. I have seen her rise from the ashes and take care of a family who desperately needed her, but shouldn't have had to rely on her. I have watched her grow from a child into an adult nearly overnight. She became a mother where I could not. A fighter when I could not fight. A survivor when I lost the will to survive.

She became my inspiration, my light at the end of the tunnel. Watching my daughter fight a battle I should have been fighting all along is what finally pulled me out of my dark place. Finally, I could move and breathe and exist again. I could be the mother I should have always been. Things were so much better. I could hold Prim and be aware of her. I could cook dinner for my children again. I could ease some of the burden off of Katniss' shoulders. I watched her slowly come to life too. She smiled a little more. Drank and ate a little more. She may not have accepted me back as her mother, but she at least let me take care of her, if only it was subconsciously. She let me cook. She let me clean. She let me wash her clothes; all of the things that I as her mother should have been doing all along. All of the things she had been doing for a very long time now.

I knew what a huge step this was for her. Handing the reigns over could not have been easy. And I could see it in her eyes; she would never trust me again. But I would dance to the fact that she let me take over the household again. I didn't deserve it. It seems absurd; me thinking I have no right to my own home. But truly, I failed my children.

I was sick. I had a broken heart, and as terrible as that sounds, as awful as the fact that I left my children alone is, I truly could not recover. I'd lost one of the three most important things in my life. And I didn't know how to get back on my feet again. I didn't know up from down when my husband died. I was hollow; unreachable; irreparable. I will never be the same woman I was. I am weaker. I am stronger. Everyday is easier than the one before. Every day unlike any other. Slowly, my family repairs itself.

"Primrose Everdeen." And then it completely shatters. My baby girl. In the arena. But no. I should have known. I shouldn't have even believed for a second Prim would be going in.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

In a matter of seconds, I have nearly lost both of my children. Prim to Katniss, and Katniss to the arena. I can feel it inside me. That dark dismal thing, wanting to drag me back into myself. I can't let it. I have to fight. Gale has to drag Prim away from Katniss and I am there, waiting with open arms. I cling to her, my youngest daughter. I cling to her and I will never let her go.

As I watch Katniss on that screen, that huge overwhelming screen, I wish I could hide away again. I don't want to see this. I do not want to be aware of my child being hunted. Being burned. Starved. Dehydrated. Injured. Wounded. Dying. Loved. Hated. But I am aware. I can't afford not to be. Because there is a chance. My baby could make it through this. She is a fighter. A survivor. She is exactly what I always wanted to be. Strong. Able. She loves so passionately, and she isn't even aware she does.

There's the Mellark boy, protecting her and she doesn't even know it. Loving her, and she is clueless. I may not be the mother my daughter deserves, but I have never failed to be observant as of late. Watching her on screen I am forced to see a side to her I am not accustomed to. A vulnerable side. She is human. She is scared. She is desperate. Desperation is something I have seen in her, but not this violent. Not this real.

There is one moment through these terrible games that will always stay with me. A moment where I shined. A moment when I knew I could make my children proud.

On the evening when Peeta goes back to kill the girl left behind by the Career children, I can't bring myself to face reality. This is it. One of the children from District 12 is going to have to kill. And then I see something I wasn't expecting and yet am not at all surprised to witness.

"Please kill me. I don't want this anymore. I just want to be gone."

But Peeta takes the girls hand, her tiny fragile tragic hand, and holds it. "Go to sleep. When you wake up, everything will be better, I promise," he whispers to her. She closes her eyes, tears streaming down. I expect him to kill her now, only he doesn't. He waits only a moment. She is so close to death. And then she stops breathing. Peeta walks away back to the Careers and the canon sounds.

I look away when I hear a scoff behind me. "He's not going to make it back home with weaknesses like that."

Disturbed, I turn around to face the person who has the gall to be so cruel. Mrs. Mellark.

"Your son is a hero. He has mercy and kindness. How could you think that makes him weak?"

I feel several eyes turn to the two of us, the mothers of the tributes. I cannot believe this is even happening. We are here for mandatory viewing of our children's demise and she has the nerve to say evil things about her own child? Her brave selfless child who I owe my daughters life to. I can't allow her to speak of him that way. It's too much.

"What makes him weak is his impulsive need to protect your ungrateful daughter."

I bite back the harsh response that begs to be released. "His will to protect her is what makes him strong." She just laughs and rolls her eyes; I do not hold back my reply this time. "If you knew anything about kindness, you would recognize the strength in your son."

Stunned, she says nothing. But I feel strong. I have defended the boy who is trying to save my daughter; the boy who would bring her back to me. I have spoken up. I'm not in the shadows; I am standing up for what I believe. I'm sure no one expected that of me. I'm only the local healer, mother to the huntress. I speak when spoken to unless working on a patient. I'm very business like with my patients. They become my priority while they are helpless. Right now, I feel that same protectiveness surge through me. I feel that strength. But where there is strength, there is always someone who is truly weak.

"Your daughter is going to get my son killed."

I feel that darkness tug at me again. Daughter. Son. Killed. I know Prim is in school, but if she was here, she would need me to stay put. She would need me to be Katniss. "If your son dies, I have every faith that it would be because he fought for what he believed in. You should be proud that he is sticking to who he is. We've seen children become murderersin that arena. But not your son. You should be proud."

"Your daughter won't hesitate to kill. Just watch."

I feel an old anger for this woman flare to life. "My daughter will do what she feels is right. And so help me if I have to hear your cruel and heartless remarks for even another minute, I am going to-," I don't finish my sentence because her husband is standing between the two of us. He faces his wife, his tone calm yet forceful.

"Stop it. That is her daughter in there too. Her child is in that place too. You should be ashamed. Peeta is doing the best he can. That is your son! Your son." The crowd is silent and I feel a new respect for the baker. I'd always thought he seemed a little like me. Weak with an underlying need to save someone. He faces me now.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Everdeen. Please, pray for our children."

I know there is no prayer that will save them both. "Thank you. I will."

He nods, and he turns away. I find it strange he wouldn't look me in the eye.

Author's Note: First time writing from Mrs. Everdeen's point of view. Did I do ok? This isn't my best, but I just really really really wanted a confrontation between Mrs. Everdeen and Mrs. Mellark. I feel like it could have been more feisty…did you like it? I just feel like this could have been more.